I stare at your eyes and gather;
I close mine and wait:

the soft, yet vapid
on my lips, slightly open.
Yours cupped on my overlip.

The charged air, the sublimed space.

I close mine on yours,
and stay.
The comfort of overwhelmed.
We stay, please.

I push.

The warmth
of your every breath on
my philtrum:
you are with me, now;

I feel my bridge on yours
point it
and rest
on the vast, skin beside.
(carry me)

I run my thumb
on the smooth of your jaw,
the tender and sweet in
them lips
your delicate beauty.

Yes, dear:
I drown myself tonight
in your mouth.
We glow
in our little corner of the dark,
and starless sky.

Your brow loll on my forehead
your eyes gently unshut
looking
beyond the locked lips,
and the caressing chins,
on us.

Because.

My love,
more to tomorrow
and growing surround,
the ephemera of the night:

our lips,
inevitably,
will part.

731

“I want”—it pleaded—All its life—
I want—was chief it said
When Skill entreated it—the last—
And when so newly dead—

I could not deem it late—to hear
That single—steadfast sigh—
The lips had placed as with a “Please”
Toward Eternity—

Russia and America circle each other;
Threats nudge an act that were without doubt
A melting of the mould in the mother,
Stones melting about the root.

The quick of the earth burned out:
The toil of all our ages a loss
With leaf and insect. Yet flitting thought
(Not to be thought ridiculous)

Shies from the world-cancelling black
Of its playing shadow: it has learned
That there's no trusting (trusting to luck)
Dates when the world's due to be burned;

That the future's no calamitous change
But a malingering of now,
Histories, towns, faces that no
Malice or accident much derange.

And though bomb be matched against bomb,
Though all mankind wince out and nothing endure --
Earth gone in an instant flare --
Did a lesser death come

Onto the white hospital bed
Where one, numb beyond her last of sense,
Closed her eyes on the world's evidence
And into pillows sunk her head.

Spin.
Faster, faster.
Don't stop yet.
Just keep spinning.
Fall.
The little white sparkles
In the sky
Spin in a magical light show.
He takes me by the hand
But what he doesn't see
Is he takes me by the heart.
Star spinning he calls it.
Me,
I call it,
Falling faster and faster
for the boy of my dreams.
A boy,
Who sends me spinning
In a whirlwind of emotions
allowing me to completely
break free.
Only,
he will never know,
what he truly does
to me.

Almost naked except
A dangling Marlboro cigarette  

Expertly stroking his lover
Fingers caress a slender body

Methodically engulfing aroma
The sweet smell of ***

Swollen lips surround
Waves of rapture quiver

Eyelashes and eyeballs flutter
Sinking into oblivion

Head bobbing like a pendulum
Savoring lingering lust

Inhaling smoke languidly
******* every undying toxin

Heather Mirassou

His words left his mouth. 
And rode against the walls,
like beams of light, straddling and clinging the cold wood of the room
Trying to run as fast as they could away from him.
The stale air penetrated the door, and his words found their exit.
They soared across mountains,
passing through skin and bone
the words ebb with wind
and flow with cloud
and slowly mold themselves into
melodies, then symphonies
agreements, then arguments.
The gleam from a sleepy sun, gave the words something amazing
They gave them texture, they gave it breath.And now a simple three words had become
everything that mattered
They became a being.
hurting, then healing
whenever it chose.
And he never would have guessed
 that love would travel that far.

tick tock; only time can make
things grow
but if you attempt to fiddle
with father time
you will not reap what you sew
one could even consider the
travel of time a mere simplistic
crime

but even our brothers and sisters
often live in the past
just like our mothers and their misters
marriage does not last
just a piece of paper, and
two bands around a finger
and sooner before later a lust
for touch will linger
so gather the material objects to
create a raging fire
becareful of each splinter
that will do everything to conspire
against you like the cold cold winter

I've already begun to feed
the flame with each document
just like the seed that grows
into an argument
the wickedness is in our bloodstream
and we can never repent
so try to wake up from this dream
that holds you hostage
and your speeding down lifes road
on empty, and your low on milage